


Bringing You Home

by kinky_kneazle



Series: Full of Emptiness [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-16
Updated: 2005-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he defeated Voldemort, Harry has been lost.  Draco thinks he's finally found a way to bring him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bringing You Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a sequel to [Full of Emptiness](http://www.livejournal.com/users/kinky_kneazle/1417.html#cutid1) which was written for [](http://jamie2109.livejournal.com/profile)[**jamie2109**](http://jamie2109.livejournal.com/) and [](http://nocturnali.livejournal.com/profile)[**nocturnali**](http://nocturnali.livejournal.com/)'s [AWDT](http://www.livejournal.com/users/jamie2109/151456.html). You don't need to have read the drabble to understand this story, but it might help. With much love to my non-LJ friend Tiff, for the read through.

He knew the blond man as well. Knew that he had once hated him. That maybe he had loved him as well. While his friends had visited all the time, the blond had visited only once before. The blond had sat and cried and begged “Come back to me” while he could only look on blankly.

Now he was back and staring.

“It’s taken me ten years Harry, but I can finally save you.” The blond sat down on the bed. “ _Indago Inanis._ ”

He felt nothing for a long time but could see, through the lens he sometimes used to see past the labyrinth, that the man was just lying there. Then all of a sudden the man was there, in his place, looking down at him.

“Hello Harry.”

* * *

Draco was startled to see that Harry-in-his-mind was about eleven years old and wearing broken glasses and clothes miles too big. This was the Harry he had met in Madame Malkin’s so many years ago.

He looked around the small island of green that was surrounded by shadow. There was a cupboard that had stairs going nowhere above it. A tree he recognised as one that Gryffindors had favoured for lounging under. Grass surrounding both.

“How did you find me?”

“I just kept going until I did.”

“Past the monsters?”

“Past my monsters, yes.”

“And we knew each other. I . . . did you hate me? We used to be the same age.”

“Yes, we did. Why do you stay here Harry?”

“I can’t get out. Over that side is the Great Marsh. That way is the Endless Desert. In front is the Labyrinth and the monsters do not let me pass.”

Draco squatted so the two of them were almost seeing eye to eye.

“What is behind you Harry?”

The boy frowned and pushed his hair back from his face. Draco noticed that this Harry had no scar.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

They both sat under the tree.

“What do you do here?”

“I sit and I think. I have my binoculars so I can watch the others.” He showed Draco a pair of old black omnioculars.

“What others?”

“My friends that visit. The red-headed boy and the smart girl. But they look older now too. And I can see when the nurses come in to look after my other body.”

“Your other body?”

“The one out there. The one I can’t get to.”

Draco sighed. “I’ve come to take you back.”

Harry shook his head sadly. “There’s nothing to go back to. It’s all emptiness and wastelands. This is the only bit of me left. Just this bit and me being Just Harry.”

“But what happened?”

The boy looked away scared, then looked back, determination etched on his face.

“I’ll show you.”

Behind the stairs was the final battlefield, the players there frozen in action. A twenty-one year old Harry looked over his wand at the monster that had once been a man – Voldemort. Harry led him forward, as if he knew exactly where he was going, and stopped on the side of a hill. It was as if a button had been pressed. Everything came to life and the final scene between Lord Voldemort, the Heir of Slytherin, and Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, played out.

Draco had never seen it before. He had already been unconscious by this stage, and it had been weeks before he’d even woken up, months before he was deemed well enough to visit Harry. He watched as the Dark Lord fell and a fraction of a second later Harry fell too, staring blankly into the sky. Draco was shocked when the scene re-set itself and began again.

“It will keep going as long as we’re here.”

Draco looked back at the strong lines of the man who had been his lover. Fear, determination, anger showing on his features: relief as Voldemort fell, then shock and finally, emptiness. As the scene began for the third time Harry began to speak.

“People think he was like a snake, but to me he was a weed. He settled his roots into my mind, and when he died all the roots wrenched out leaving only wastelands and emptiness and the monsters he left behind.” He walked away and the scene froze. Draco silently followed him around the hill and they were standing in front of the cupboard again.

“This is the only place he never touched. So this is where it’s safe.”

“You’re wiser than your years, young Harry.”

“I think I’m older than I look.”

Draco thought about leaving Harry here. He might not be truly happy, but he felt safe. God only knew what would happen if he woke up. Was saving Harry really selfishness on Draco’s part, a desperate need to have him back after ten years of loneliness?

“What’s the cupboard for Harry?”

“That’s where I sleep.”

“Why a cupboard?”

The boy shrugged. “It’s where I’ve always slept. Do you want to see inside?” He opened the door and Draco could see that the inside was larger than the outside suggested. There was a decent-sized bed, a shelf with books, a stuffed owl, everything done in green and grey. Slytherin colours.

“I expected more red and gold.”

“The colours remind me of him.” Harry pointed at a picture on the bedside table. “Of he and I together. Our eyes are green and grey.”

Draco picked up the photo and saw his eighteen-year-old self, looking relaxed and carefree in a way he hadn’t since. In the photo he smiled and waved and blew kisses to the green-eyed wizard who had been taking the photo. He wondered why Harry didn’t recognise him as the man in the photo. One of the mysteries of the place, he supposed. Perhaps because that day was untouched by any misery and the rest of their time together was overshadowed by death and war. The photo helped Draco make his decision.

“That’s it. I’m taking you out of here.” He took Harry’s hand and marched to the edge of the grass. They stood for a moment looking out before Harry turned and tugged at Draco’s hand. Draco stood firm.

“The Marshes are a great sadness,” Harry said. “They will swallow you whole.”

They walked around the boundary of the grass until Draco stopped again.

“Not the monsters.”

“Then it must be the desert Harry.”

“We’ll starve. There’s no food. No water.”

“Do you have to eat here?”

The boy shook his head. “But here it’s safe.”

“You’re a wizard Harry. So am I. We’ll conjure everything we need.” Draco stared into his eyes. “What happened to Gryffindor bravery?”

A look he recognised stole over Harry’s face; the one that meant he was about to do something incredibly stupid and incredibly brave. Harry took a step forward into the shadows and suddenly they were standing in a desert surrounded on three sides with sand. Glancing over his shoulder Draco saw the shadows he thought he had stepped into. They started walking.

Some time later Draco realised two things. Firstly, although this was all in Harry’s mind, the exhaustion and dehydration could kill him just as easily here as in a real desert. Secondly, the sun was _never_ going to set.

“Harry? Let’s get some rest. I’m going to conjure a tent and some food and water.”

If felt strange to wave his wand, because he knew he was not doing magic, he was convincing Harry’s subconscious to conjure these things. But everything appeared and they both drank their fill before climbing into sleeping bags. Harry fell asleep quickly and Draco watched him breathe until he too dozed off.

When they awoke Harry was taller and broader, and looked to be a year older. This was the Harry who had got the snitch in second year. The Harry who beat him at everything important. Draco smiled ruefully thinking of what he’d been like back then.

“I knew your name once, didn’t I?” Draco was startled by the question but nodded cautiously. Harry stared at him thoughtfully for what seemed like a long time. “You’re Draco. You were a brat.”

Draco burst out laughing and soon Harry joined in. Draco revelled in the sound. He had never heard this carefree laughter coming from Harry as a twelve year old. He only ever heard the mocking laugh after Harry had bested him.

They gathered their things and walked until they needed rest. This time when they awoke it was the Harry who had scared him witless by sending a Patronus charm his way in third year.

This morning, after staring at Draco for a long time, Harry said, “I always thought you were going to be on his side.”

“Maybe I was going to be once. You changed me Harry.”

It seemed that the desert was going to bring back memories: concrete memories, not just a photo and a tree and a cupboard that had ended up being safer than anything outside of it. They spent their days talking about whatever year Harry had been in, and it brought Hogwarts starkly alive for Draco too. The Harry that had called him Ferret, the Harry who had almost broken his jaw after the first Quidditch match fifth year, the Harry that hadn’t allowed Draco to insult him in sixth year, always murmuring, “You’re not worth it.”

On the seventh morning Draco woke to find emerald eyes staring intently into his.

“Did we kiss once?” Draco nodded. “But you hated me.”

“I haven’t hated you for a long time Harry.”

Harry turned and started to gather their things.

Draco woke on the eighth day to find the face of the young man he had fallen in love with at eighteen, including his trademark scar which had returned. Draco didn’t mention it.

“We were in love.” It wasn’t a question, but Draco nodded anyway. “Can we kiss again?”

Draco leaned forward and brushed his lips softly across the younger man’s, a brief heavenly touch before he moved away.

“We should get going.”

“Draco, wait.” Draco looked at him. “How long do you think we’ll be walking?”

“That depends on whether you have to walk until you’re the age you are now or until you’re the age you were when you got lost in here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s either three more days. Or thirteen.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly gathered his things and they set out.

That night they camped at an oasis. Draco counted its appearance as a good sign.

“Draco? Can’t we just set up camp and sleep and wake up in the same place and not worry about the walking?”

“I don’t think it works like that Harry. There’s still a journey to take. I’d feel better if we kept walking.”

“Whatever you say Draco.” Draco laughed. “What?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever said that before in your life.”

Harry smiled. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The next morning a nineteen-year-old Harry looked at him.

“We fought a lot.”

“We loved a lot,” Draco countered.

Harry grinned. “Yeah, we did.” Then he leaned in and kissed Draco. This was no soft kiss. Harry’s fingers were in his hair, his other hand on his waist, tongue sweeping aggressively through. Draco clung on for dear life. Then it was over and both of them stared at each other for a long time.

“Let’s get going.”

Waking up on the tenth day Draco was surprised to find Harry wasn’t in the tent. Draco found him sitting outside, staring back towards where he had spent the last decade. Tears were running down his face.

“Harry?”

“I left you alone for ten years.” Draco didn’t know what to say to that. “And you still came for me?”

“I never blamed you for leaving. I blamed myself for not being able to get to you sooner.”

“But –”

Draco kissed away whatever protest Harry had been about to offer. “I’ll always come for you.”

That day they didn’t talk much during their walk. They stayed close, touching often, holding hands, kissing. Draco knew the horrible memories Harry would be experiencing this day. Bloodshed, betrayal, the death of a mentor for both of them. Both Snape and Dumbledore had fallen during that dark year. And when they climbed into bed Draco held the young man as he sobbed. Harry returned the favour before they fell asleep.

When Draco climbed out of the tent the next day he looked around in dismay. He saw a cupboard, with stairs going nowhere, a tree, grass. The only difference was he could see the marshes, desert and labyrinth that surrounded him, whereas before they were cloaked in shadow. He waited for Harry, expecting an eleven-year-old, hoping they wouldn’t have to go through the labyrinth and marshes as well.

To his surprise the Harry that walked out was twenty-one years old, and seemed to know exactly what he was doing. When he followed Harry behind the cupboard he saw that the man was missing from the frozen tableau. As he watched Harry took his wand from his pocket and took his place before Voldemort. This time when Voldemort fell, Harry stayed standing. He leaned over the monstrous corpse.

“I didn’t forget you. I forgot me. But I remember now. It’s over.”

At these words the scene faded around them leaving only Harry in front of him. Draco stepped forward and found he was looking at Harry at thirty-one, tired and weak, but wearing a triumphant smile.

“You found me.”

“I never stopped looking.”

“It seems so empty without him. So big.”

“You were Harry Potter before he came along, and you’ll be Harry Potter without him. Besides, you’ll grow into it.”

Harry was laughing as he faded out of view.

Draco awoke in Harry’s room at St Mungo’s. He was sure when he said the spell he had been facing Harry, but when he awoke he was wrapped tightly in Harry’s arms, the brunet’s head on his chest. He turned at a noise next to him and the nurse squealed and dropped her potions. He felt Harry stir.

“How,” Draco coughed, his throat terribly dry, “how long have I been out?”

“Two weeks Mr Malfoy,” she answered.

“Draco?” At the sound of Harry’s weak voice the nurse squealed louder and bustled out of the room.

“We’re about to be inundated,” Draco said, smiling wryly.

“You saved me.” Harry sounded amazed, and moved a hand to caress Draco’s cheek. Draco leaned down to kiss him, and his heart felt like it would burst from joy at that first real kiss in ten years.

“Of course I did. I love you. I had to bring you home.”


End file.
